


Daddy Dom Dumby Seeks Fat Cheeto Man For Rough Times in a Rough Era uwu

by quizzletriangle3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: COVID19, Corona Virus - Freeform, Gay Sex, Graphic Sex, M/M, Quarantine, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23203657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quizzletriangle3/pseuds/quizzletriangle3
Summary: Trump has the scawy cOwOna virus and seeks dummy thicc dumbleroar (XD) for a cure only a wizard possesses.......in their phat COCK"It's genius, it's horrid, something Mary Shelley herself may consider a rival to her best works." -me, describing my sins writing this to people in quarantine
Relationships: Donald Trump/Dumbledore
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	Daddy Dom Dumby Seeks Fat Cheeto Man For Rough Times in a Rough Era uwu

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING ESPECIALLY NOT HARRY POTTER OR TRUMP I AM MAKING A PARODY AND I DO NOT CLAIM RIGHTS TO THE CHARACTERS USED I ONLY CLAIM RIGHT TO THE FACT THAT I WROTE THIS IN 3 HOURS

Trump sat down at his desk, his cheeto fingers wrapped around the phone tightly as tears began to cloud his blue eyes. “Are you sure?” He said quietly to his doctor on the phone.

“Yes, Mr. President, I am so sorry, but you have tested positive for COVID-19, otherwise known as corona.” His doctor said solemnly.

“You bastard,” he said, as his orange hand cradled his head, the tears of the poor leaking from his eyes. “I wanted good news today, I already have to give a shit about my people, why couldn’t you tell me something good!” He cried out in his empty oval office.

“Sir, I know this is hard to hear, but you still have a chance!” The doctor tried to reassure the President.

“What chance do _I_ have? I’m _73_ , people my age are dropping like flies in this pandemic! We can only pray I make it at this point.” He wept.

“Sir, I have some information for you that you cannot tell the public. But I may know of a possible cure for corona.” The doctor said.

“Dr. Richard Thick, are you promising something that may only let me down in the future?” Trump said, hopelessly.

“No, sir. I have top secret information for you. The only catch is that you cannot tell your Vice President, Mr. Pence, where you are, what you are doing, and how you managed to overcome the pandemic.” Richard quickly whispered into his receiver.

“That can easily be done.” Trump said, gaining a hope he hadn’t felt since he circumvented Congress to continue the fight to build his beloved glory hol- wall. His wall. It’s just a wall.

“Well, sir. Have you heard of, um, wizards?” Dr. Richard asked.

“You mean like in Harry Potter?” Trump said. “Well, yes, of course I have, Melania and I like to-”

“Yes, I know, I removed that from you, I remember.” Dr. Richard interrupted. “But, they are real people. Those stories, they are actually fact. Of course, some of it was hyperbolized by the author for entertainment value, but they are real people. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, is a real man, and his mentor has offered to help us in this crisis.”

Trump grunted in relief. “That, sir, is great news.” He said with a smile. “I can’t believe they are not only real but are willing to help us.”

“Just you, sir.” Dr. Richard said. “They are offering to help you specifically.”

Trump was flabbergasted. “Just me?” He said, dubiously.

“Yes, sir, just you.” Dr. Richard said.

“What must we do, then?” Trump asked. He grabbed a pen and memo pad, even though his assistant was not there to write anything for him.

“I’ll contact the ministry on your behalf, Mr. President.” Dr. Richard said. “They will send someone to you to help you overcome this disease. Hopefully, this can be arranged within a few days, before your symptoms become disastrous.”

“Please do so. I will await your news on further details regarding the situation.” Trump said, motioning to put his phone in the holder to finish the call.

“Yes, sir. Stay safe, Mr. President.” Dr. Richard said.

“You too, Dick.” Trump said, finishing the call. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, put his feet on his oval desk, and let out a relieved sigh. “We have hope.” He said quietly. “We still have hope.”

* * *

Dumbledore looked up right as an owl reached his window, it softly pecked on the glass, asking to be let in. As he opened the latch, he noticed the letter being held in its delicate claws.

“Thank you,” he said softly, gently taking the letter from the owl and offering it a rat as a treat. The owl guzzled the rat, cooed politely, and left the office. Dumbledore returned to his desk and sat down. He swiftly opened the letter, as it was addressed “URGENT.” He briefly skimmed the letter, reread the title once finished, and then actually read the letter.

“Hm.” He remarked. “I guess he has taken my offer after all.” He said to Fawkes, who slept soundly to his right. “I suppose it’s time to show, Mr. President, who is Daddy.”

* * *

Trump continued to work at his desk in isolation, trying to keep up his spirits as he coughed once again into his elbow. Dr. Richard had told him over the phone a few days prior that the wizard, Dumbledore, would arrive by today. Trump was holding onto this promise to keep his spirits high. As many doctors have said, a hope can cure anything, or at least prolong the inevitable.

Trump continued to lick his fingers, thinking they were 10 ripe Cheetos, when a firm knock rapped on the door. “Come in?” He said, wearily. He did not want to infect anyone, especially his precious Vice President who tried to visit him every hour.

The door slowly opened as if on its own. Trump’s eyes widened as an old man with a long, white beard walked into the room. The man carried a staff encrusted in rare jewels, with a softly lit blue orb resting on the top. The man was easily over six feet and well built, nothing like the frail Dumbledore that J. K. Rowling had described. “I guess she did take, some, liberties in her novels.” He muttered to himself.

“Yes,” Dumbledore answered. “She did. Now, do you want my cure?” Dumbledore asked this as he crossed the room, motioning for the door to close on its own (which it did), and sat in front of the oval desk.

“Yes.” Trump said, breathlessly. “I crave a cure, I don’t want to die yet, I have a reelection you see.” He said as Dumbledore raised a finger to cut him off.

“I know, Mr. President. I want to make sure you get to run, at the very least.” Dumbledore said and crossed his right leg over his left. “Now, has your doctor told you how we can administer the cure?” He said, leaning forward.

“Not yet, he said he would let you explain it.” Trump answered honestly.

Dumbledore leaned back and scoffed. “Of course, Dick would do that.” He put his hand to his forehead as if thinking, and once done, lowered it to his lap. “I will explain it to you then.”

“Please do,” Trump said, motioning for Dumbledore to take the floor.

Dumbledore gently stood and walzed around the office in time. “First thing, us wizards are not able to contract the virus, and our female counterparts, witches, are not either thanks to our realization.”

Trump smiled. “That’s great, I’m glad your people could figure out a cure before us no-mages.”

“Muggles, please call them muggles when around me, sir.”

“Why, yes, of course, I apologize. I’m glad your people could find a cure before us, muggles.” He corrected himself.

“Yes, we did.” Dumbledore confirmed. “We found this out swiftly for we are a, um, promiscuous, people.”

“What do you mean?” Trump asked. He leaned forward slightly in his seat. For some reason, he began to feel calm while talking to the elder wizard.

“We, quite frankly, fuck a lot of people of any gender.” Dumbledore said facing the wall opposite to Trump.

“Oh my,” Trump stumbled. “That, I, good for you.” He said quickly.

“Thank you,” Dumbledore turned back to the poster child for spray tan risk awareness. “Our cure is actually the properties found within our semen.”

Trump stared blankly at the wizard. “Pardon?”

“Our semen can cure corona.” Dumbledore said as he closed the gap between himself and the President.

Trump fell back in his seat. “How would you administer this treatment then, Professor-”

“Orally, or anally, President Trump.” Dumbledore said with a soft pur in his throat. “Are you prepared to receive that kind of treatment?” He leaned on the oval desk with both hands, staring with his blue orbs into Trump’s fidgeting eyes.

“I do want to be free from the chains of this novel disease.” Trump reasoned.

“Then will you accept my offer?” Dumbledore asked, his forefinger gently rubbing the desk, his cock getting harder by the minute of prolonged silence.

Trump looked around at his empty office, as if seeking reassurance. He knew what he needed but was he ready? Once he reached his own conclusion, he nodded softly. “Yes,” he turned to face Dumbledore head on. “I want to be cured!” He said, standing and spreading his arms wide. President Trump was ready to receive treatment. He was ready for what was to come, both in time and through the seminal vesicle.

Dumbledore stood proudly in response. “Then let us waste no time, Mr. President.” Dumbledore apparated next to Trump’s left, and softly licked his ear. “Give yourself to me, and I will cure you.”

Trump lightly moaned as he leaned into Dumbledore’s tongue. “Yes, Professor.”

Dumbledore roughly turned Trump to face him. Trump gasped softly at the lack of tongue and use of force against him. “You will, from now on, call me Daddy, understood?” Dumbledore said firmly, his steel, cold eyes holding Trump’s gaze.

“Yes, si-, um, Daddy.” Trump said. Dumbledore leaned in closer to Trump’s thin, white lips. “Precisely.” He whispered as their lips crashed together.

Trump melted into Dumbledore’s embrace. Each time their faces shifted to meet each other again he chirped in delight, and suddenly he grabbed Dumbledore’s back, fists balled into his robes, as he pulled the elder closer to him. His dick was getting harder and harder, even without his prescribed Viagra, as he grinded gently on Dumbledore’s thigh.

Dumbledore leaned onto the desk, giving himself a place to sit and hold the weight of Trump as the personification of a Cheeto slowly climbed on top of him, gently trying to get their shafts to rub against each other through their sacrilegiously mixed fabrics. Dumbledore’s hands ran through the toupee, accidentally ripping it off of the President’s head. Trump gasped as the glue was ripped from his scalp, and looked at Dumbledore. “That was my best one.” He said, inches from Dumbledore’s face.

“That’s ok, I can make an even better one from a picture of Pence.” Dumbledore reassured Trump, placing his hand on his jawline to pull him closer.

“Oh, Daddy,” Trump smiled as he made his pencil thin lips connect with Dumbledore’s. The wizard made sure to avoid the splotches of glue left on the President’s head, for he didn’t want to make the man self-conscious.

They continued to grind on one another for a few more moments before Dumbledore broke away from the kiss, “You know we need to do more than this, right?”

Trump nervously swallowed. “I know, Daddy.”

“Then I think we should get to it.” Dumbledore said as he rose from the desk. This motion forced Trump off of him. The stout man began to rub his hands together nervously as he stood apart from the wizard.

“Do you want me naked, Daddy?” Trump looked up with half-lidded eyes.

Dumbledore looked the President up and down. He was in a black suit with a Republican red tie. His clothes looked a little disheveled from the passionate moment they had just shared, yet his American flag pin was still perfectly in place. “I do want you naked,” Dumbledore confirmed. “I also want you on your knees before me.”

Trump nodded keeping their eyes connected as he slowly undid his suit. Clothes dropped to the floor and his nipples hardened as the cold air of the office touched his crusty skin. As his shaft was revealed Dumbledore inhaled sharply. While licking his lips he said, “Mr. President, I think I need to use some magic to help us in this situation.”

Trump looked at him with a confused expression. “What kind of magic?” He asked, stepping closer to the still clothed wizard.

“Well, if I want to at least make you orgasm, I need to be able to see your cock.” Dumbledore hissed into Trump’s ear.

Trump melted at the seductive tone in his voice. “Do what you must, then. Just know that my hands are still average.” As he said this, he grabbed Dumbledore’s robes and pulled him closer so that their foreheads touched.

“Of course, Mr. President.” Dumbledore said. “Engorgio,” he whispered. Trump’s hard dick grew larger and larger, to the size of the average American white male’s penis size (roughly 5 inches).

Trump gasped, his length growing larger than what any pill he had taken to make it expand. It also became fatter, like a fat piece of pork. “Oh, Daddy.” He moaned. “I think I’m ready for you now.”

Dumbledore chuckled in the back of his throat. “No, bitch, you’re not.” Dumbledore pushed Trump to his knees. “You need to suck me off first.”

Trump swallowed with anxiety. Sure he had choked on Melania’s strap-on, but never on real, manly flesh. He licked his lips seductively and looked up slowly. “Can you show yourself to me?” He begged.

Dumbledore smiled, “Of course.” He began to remove his layers of robes. Dust lifted itself from the fabric as it was moved off of his body and danced in the fluorescent light of the office. His hard cock was revealed, and it was way beyond average.

“What kind of spell did you use on yours?” Trump asked in awe, looking at Dumbledore’s dick sitting in front of his face.

“Puberty,” Dumbledore responded.

“Oh,” Trump was in awe. If only his early years had given him a length as long as this.

“Now, wrap your lips around me and suck like a good little vacuum.”

Trump looked at the shaft once more and gently licked the tip. Dumbledore shook in pleasure at the warmth of Trump’s tongue. Trump was caught off-guard by the motion, but wasn’t deterred. Slowly, he fit what he could into his mouth, and began mimicking what he had watched all the women he fucked do. As Dumbledore’s dick moved throughout his mouth, his right hand twisted the rest that could not fit. Dumbledore leaned back onto the desk as Trump worked for once in his privileged life. His hands gripped the desk tightly as the suction Trump gave made him close to climax. “Mr. President,” Dumbledore gasped. “You have to swallow what I am about to release, if you want to be cured that is.” Trump grunted in response and began sucking even harder. Dumbledore couldn’t take it anymore as his white, hot seed began to leave his urethra and enter the esophagus of the Cheeto man. Trump’s throat contracted again and again, welcoming each and every semen into his waiting stomach, the liquid quickly trying to work its way into his system.

Once Dumbledore’s cock stopped squeezing out his warm liquid, Trump slowly let the penis leave his mouth, a string of saliva keeping them connected. Trump lapped up the fluid and gently kissed the tip of Dumbledore. “Satisfied, Daddy?” Trump asked, knowing he had done a good job.

“Worthy of a gold star your education system is so fond of.” Dumbledore remarked.

Trump hummed happily in response. He had never gotten one before.

“But we must now prepare you for the second administration.” Dumbledore said, grabbing Trump’s chin with his left hand, forcing the man to look at him again.

“Another dose?” Trump said.

“Yes, the final dose.” Dumbledore said.

Trump nodded. “What do you need me to do, Daddy?”

Dumbledore helped him get off of his knees and sat him down on the desk. “Lay down.” He commanded.

Trump slowly let himself rest on his pretty much barren desk. “Ok,” he said sweetly.

Dumbledore licked his own fingers, covering them in a thick coat of saliva. “Get ready, Mr. President.” He said, putting his fingers at Trump’s forbidden entrance. Trump gasped softly as two fingers swirled his anus. With practiced hands, Dumbledore entered the chasm, and continued to stimulate the fleshy walls surrounding his fingertips as he pushed further in.

“Daddy!” Trump cried out.

“Shh,” Dumbledore scolded. “You can’t alert anyone to what we are doing.” Trump nodded as his eyes rolled back into his head in pleasure. Dumbledore continued to dig deeper and deeper until he had reached the holy spot. Trump moaned and groaned loudly as Dumbledore fondled his prostate. Melania had never made him feel this way. None of his wives had. None of the women he cheated on his wives with had. “Oh, Dumby,” Trump purred.

Dumbledore jerked his fingers suddenly, but not in a way that would hurt the President, just startle him. “It’s Daddy.” He hissed.

“Yes, d-daddy.” Trump squirmed, begging for more than some fingers to be inside of him.

“Good, are you prepared?” Dumbledore asked, gently removing his fingers.

“I think so,” Trump assured the elder.

“Then let’s continue with the treatment,” Dumbledore said, steadying his cock at Trump’s anus. “I’m administering the equipment.”

Dumbledore put his tip in Trump. The President moaned and moved slowly, adjusting to the feeling of another person being inside of him. Once he was accustomed, Dumblemore began to fit more of himself in Trump’s ass.

“Daddy, you really fill me up.” Trump said teasingly.

“I’m just getting started.” Dumbledore promised.

He fit the rest of himself inside of Trump and they both shuddered in pleasure. “I’m gonna fuck you know, ok?” Dumbledore said.

Trump nodded and bit his lip hard as the first of many thrusts began. Dumbledore’s thick cock began to cause Trump to see the good in the LGBTQ community as he reached a serene pleasure he had never felt before. “Daddy!” He called out.

Dumbledore kept thrusting, harder each time he had to reenter, the slap of his cock echoing around the room. The only other sound to counter the slapping and slick squelching was Dumbledore’s heavy breathing and Trump’s delicate moans. As they kept going, Trump’s asshole tightened until Dumbledore could no longer hold it in. “I’m gonna-” He tried to say.

“I know, administer the medicine, Daddy.” Trump said.

Dumbledore groaned harshly as his cum began to fill Trump. The President cried out in joy as he climaxed too, his cock shaking in the eruption, his semen flying across his own stomach.

“Daddy,” he moaned over and over.

Dumbledore finished contracting and removed his now flaccid penis from Trump. Dumbledore gently patted Trump’s full belly, carefully avoiding the semen Trump had expelled. “You should be cured within a few hours.” Dumbledore said, backing away and gathering his clothes.

“Thank you,” Trump said softly, slowly moving to sit in his chair.

“Try not to let it spill out,” Dumbledore chastised him.

Trump chuckled. “Of course, I’ll be careful.” He leaned back in his gamer chair that extended beyond a normal chair.

Dumbledore smiled down at the orange and flushed man. “Try to stay safe.”

Trump reached out for Dumbledore’s hand and the other man turned away from him. “I will.” He promised. It was an American promise. No strings attached because Dumbledore was English.

Dumbledore squeezed his hand softly. “Good.”

As they let go of each other a soft knock rang on the door to the office.

“I have to go now,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly.

“Goodbye, Daddy Professor Sir.” Trump said.

Dumbledore nodded and then aparated back to his office in London.

“Come in,” Trump said, forgetting that he was, in fact, naked.

Pence peeked his head around the door. “Mr. President, sir?” He said as he entered the room. “Oh gosh, forgive me, you’re naked.” Pence turned away from Trump, putting his hands on either side of his head so as to block his peripheral vision.

“I should be sorry, I’m still a little sick from COVID-19.” Trump said, quickly trying to gather his clothes.

Pence perked up at the mention of the disease and slowly turned around to face the President. “COVID-19, you say?” He brushed aside his suit jacket slightly to reveal an eleven inch wand made of oak with a unicorn horn core. “I may know of a cure, if you’re willing, Mr. President.” Pence said, closing the door behind him as Trump stared at him with wide, understanding eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so sorry, i would like to apologize to my family, to my country, to anyone with eyes and/or ears that used them to read this, but quarantine made me do this. thank you for reading and your support


End file.
